


Shattered Embers

by cal_the_bandito



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Confinement, Escape, Fire Powers, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal_the_bandito/pseuds/cal_the_bandito
Summary: My original novel-in-progress c:





	1. Cove

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window. I close my eyes and try to ignore it. Father’s probably awake by now, and he knows I didn't finish cleaning yesterday. So he'll definitely be angry with me…

I listen to my family's muffled voices above my head. Sure enough, the Governor sounds furious. “The house is a mess! That lazy little freak should know better by now. Haven't you punished it, Jillian?”

“I think you...might be a little too harsh with him. With  _ it _ ,” Mother replies, correcting herself at the last minute.

“Well, how else will it learn? Creatures like that aren't like you and me. The only thing that gets through to them is strict discipline!”

With these last words, Father slams his fist on the table. “...I’ll go check on him,” my brother says.

A few seconds later, the door to the basement clicks open. Sam hesitates before entering.

Finally, he hurries down the stairs. “I hate this place.”

“Try living in it,” I tell him with a touch of bitterness. “If you can call this living, anyway.”

He sighs, kicking at one of the black feathers that litter the floor. “If it makes you feel any better, today's our birthday. Not that  _ they _ remember it or anything.”

I glance at Sam. It's hard to believe we're twins. Or even brothers. He's blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tall, and athletic. If Mother and Father approved (which they don't), he'd be on his way to becoming a basketball player or a model...

And then there's me. I'm...well, let's just say I'm the opposite of my brother.

I try to pull myself out of my thoughts. “We're, what, twelve now?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “I should really get you a calendar or something…”

“That's okay,” I reply quickly. “You really shouldn't take all these risks, you know.”

We don't say much more; Sam leaves after a while.

I stare at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts...

**

“Slacking off again?!” The governor startles me awake. “You can sleep when I say so. Until then, you have work to do.”

“I’m sorry, s-sir. I swear I didn't mean--”

He grabs the front of my shirt and hauls me upright. “Don't give me that attitude, brat!”

I remain silent, but this only seems to enrage him more; he slaps me across the face with his free hand. “Why didn't you clean the kitchen yesterday?”

“I wanted to,” I insist. “It's just--I couldn't…”

“Oh, of  _ course _ .” Father’s voice is dismissive and mocking. “Poor you. Well, you’ll have to go without food for a few days, then. You know the rules by now, don't you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He lets go of my shirt and heads back upstairs; I crumple to the ground, feeling a dull pain spread through my right leg. But I'm used to that; it's been crooked and stiff since the day I was born.

No one really knows why I’m deformed like this. Sam isn't, and neither are my parents…

I guess it doesn't matter, though. I'm pretty sure there's a way to fix my leg, but...the surgeons would be wasting their time. Why try to help a freakshow like me? When there are others out there who actually deserve it?

But if I'm really a soulless monster, then why do I feel so sad? I shouldn't care at all. Right?

I stand up slowly and limp towards the stairs. 

I've long since learned not to think about things too much...

Father says I'm less than human. So it must be true.

**

Half an hour later, I'm on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor.

_ What if I stole some food? Just enough to keep from starving... _

“Don't even think about it,” I tell myself.

**

By the time I finish cleaning the entire house, it's late afternoon. I just have one more thing to do. And I'm dreading it…

There's a mirror in every room, plus a few handheld ones in the Governor's office; I'm supposed to polish them all every few weeks.

Of course I'd never think of refusing. But...I hate having to see myself. I know I'm ugly; it's not like I need to be reminded of that!

But he'll know if I don't do it. He always finds out eventually.

**

I try to prepare myself, but the sight of my reflection still makes me cringe. I'd forgotten just how hideous I look…

I’m nothing but deathly pale skin and prominent bones; and there are shadows under my mismatched eyes. (Both of them were grey like Mother’s, at first. But the left one turned orange when I was ten. No one knows why.)

My stringy black hair is long and unkempt, falling to the middle of my back.

Of course, my wings are worst of all--they twitch whenever I'm the least bit upset, and the feathers are a washed-out dark grey color. And besides: if I didn't have these stupid things, Father wouldn't hate me…

**

I don't let myself cry until I'm back in the basement, lying on the wooden pallet that passes for my bed.  _ Don’t show emotion, idiot!  _ I tell myself.  _ Do you want Father to see?!  _

But when the tears finally come, I can't seem to stop them.

It wasn't always this way. My memories of before have all faded by now, but I still know a few things.

Like...I shared a room with Sam.

I loved to talk to people, maybe a little too much.

I always got enough food, but I was small for my age anyway.

And no one ever hit me or called me a freak…

Holding onto these things keeps me sane. Maybe someday I'll be happy again. Even loved.

Or maybe I'm just being naive--after all, it’s been eight whole years...

Suddenly, I begin to feel hot. I'd better not be running a fever--I'll be punished if I get sick!

I wait for the feeling to pass, but it only grows worse. After another hour, I manage to fall asleep.

My dreams are full of burning houses and smoke-filled streets…

When I wake up, the feeling has almost faded. I don't feel so warm anymore, at least. In fact, I'm downright cold. But that's normal--the basement has always been drafty, even in the summer.

**

The governor visits about an hour later. How could I forget? It's inspection day…

“Stand up and face me.”

Boiling anger rises in my chest, and I briefly consider staying right where I am. But it's gone as quickly as it came. What was I thinking?!

“At least you know how to do what you're told..sometimes,” he says once I've followed his instructions. This is the closest he's ever gotten to complimenting me. “Now take off your shirt.”

I stare at the floor, hating how exposed I am right now.

Father circles me, pulling at one of my wings with a silk-covered hand. Of course he'd never think of touching them without gloves…

“These look terrible. Have you been working enough, or just sitting around getting uglier?”

“It's called molting,” I reply dully. “It happens around this time every year.”  _ Which you'd know by now if you actually cared,  _ I add silently.

“Pathetic.” He pauses before stepping back. “Also, you're getting fat.”

I know this is a lie. I haven't eaten more than scraps in a long time, my arms and legs are twiglike, and my ribs are clearly visible. I'm anything  _ but _ ‘fat’...

It still cuts deep, though. And there's a part of me that believes it. When has the Governor ever been wrong? “Sorry, Father. I'll try to eat less…”

**

Later, when the house is almost dark, my brother comes to visit me again.

“He’s out for some kind of meeting,” he explains, seeing my anxious glance towards the stairs. “Hey, are you feeling alright? You look kind of sick…”

“No, I'm fine,” I lie. “Sam? Can I ask you something…?”

He looks at me. “I have a bad feeling about this. But sure, I guess.”

I close my eyes. This is too important to say out loud. Even if Father can't hear us, I can't trust Mother not to eavesdrop; she's as beaten down as I am.

Sam lowers his voice. “We're not doing  _ that _ again, it's unnatural…”

I try it anyway.  _ If I escaped someday, would you come with me?  _ I ask silently.

I don't know when we first discovered our telepathic link. I mean, it's pretty much been a part of us since we were toddlers. But Sam’s started making excuses to shut me out lately…

I know he gets the message this time, though.  _ You know I would,  _ he tells me.  _ We’re twins, after all--we have to stick together. _

_ Promise me you're telling the truth.  _

He looks at me for a long time.  _ Of course. _

_ ** _

A few days pass. Nothing out of the ordinary happens; I do exactly what Father says. Rise when he enters the room. Look down when he gets too close. Keep the house and yard spotless.

But something's off…

Mother slips me extra food--not much, but enough to keep me from collapsing.

Sam stares at me often, then quickly turns away. Once I swear I see tears in his eyes…

As for Father, he's out campaigning most of the time now.

**

Then, late one night, everything changes.

I've been having trouble sleeping; there’s a storm coming, which makes my leg hurt.

So, thanks to luck or fate or something else entirely, I'm awake to hear them talking.

“It's time.”

I sit up, alert. Father's voice is softer than usual; but I've trained myself to listen to everything. That way I can be prepared when he's upset…

Mother speaks next. “Dearest, do we really have to do this?”

The sound of a sharp slap follows her words. I wince, feeling suddenly sad for her.

“I'll be busier than ever soon,” the governor says coldly. “Do you really think I'll have time to cater to the little freak?”

“...No, Dearest.”

“Then it's settled. Let's go.”

**

The three of them enter the basement a minute or two later. Father glares at me; Mother hangs back, looking terrified. Sam's between them, holding something that glints in the moonlight. But...what is it? I can't quite tell...

I stand up with difficulty, my back to the wall. The bare cement is cold against my wings. 

“What do you want?” I ask the governor.

He doesn't answer. Then Sam steps forward, eyes wide with terror. But his face is set.

And now I can see what he's holding…

“You don't have to do this,” I say.

He shakes his head. “There's no other way. I'm sorry…”

“Get on with it!” Father tells him.

Sam slowly raises the knife and brings the blade to my throat; even in this dim light, I can see that his hands are shaking.

I look into his electric-blue eyes.  _ So this is it? _

His reply is almost loud enough for our parents to hear it.  _ I don't have a choice!! _

In a blind panic, I push him hard. He stumbles backwards; the knife clatters to the floor.

I’m forced to grab onto the nearest wall, already regretting how much strength this took from me.

That's when I notice the smoke.

Smoke that's...rising from my hands?!

_ This can't be happening. _

“He's…” Mother trails off.

“...a fire mage,” the governor finishes. Every word drips with hate. “I should've known.”

“What are you talking about?” I demand. “I'm not a...whatever you called it.” 

As I speak, sparks begin to fly from my fingertips. Mother pulls Sam back. “Be  _ careful _ !”

He stares at me, looking angry. Maybe even betrayed. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“I didn't know,” I whisper. “I never thought--”

But looking back, I should've seen it coming. There were signs:

Like the hot feeling that gets worse when I'm upset. And the way my eyes changed color, seemingly without cause…

The darkness surrounding us suddenly lights up as flames burst from my hands; my family barely manages to get out of the way.

_ This isn't me,  _ I tell myself.  _ I’m not like this… _

Father turns on me as soon as the flames die. “Get out.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me! I can’t have an elemental in the house, they’re much too dangerous. Not to mention unstable.”

“But...he’d never survive out there,” Mother protests. “You’ve starved him, and it’s made him weak. Besides, he doesn’t know anything about the world…”

She falls silent, cowering under the look Father gives her.

I keep staring at Sam, silently begging him to speak up.

_ I have nothing to say to you.  _ He looks away, breaking the connection.

The Governor hauls me to my feet and up the stairs. We’re heading towards the front door…

I struggle to get free, but it’s no use. Mother was right--I’m weaker than I even realized.

In an instant I’m outside, staring up at the stars.  _ When was the last time I saw those? _ I wonder.

“Wait!!!” I sit up, suddenly panicking. I can’t leave the basement--it’s my home! It’s where I belong!

The door locks before I can get to it. “Father!”

He doesn’t come back.

No one does.

A car rushes past--I’m almost caught in its headlights, but I manage to dive behind a shrub at the last second. 

The bush is covered in pink-and-white flowers, but I can’t remember what they’re called. It’s been years since I was allowed to work in the garden; once Father realized that it brought me the slightest amount of happiness, he took it away from me.

There’s no time to think about that now, though. I have to get away! I’ve been told what will happen if a normal human sees me--I’ll be murdered on sight. Or worse, sent to a lab for testing...

Half-blinded by tears, I spread my wings and take off into the night.

**

I fly for what seems like hours. But it could just as easily be ten minutes; I lose track of time before long. The wind picks up, making it nearly-impossible to stay in the air. But I have to keep pressing on...

_ When will I stop? And...where will I go from there? _

I flap my wings harder, trying to climb high enough to escape the dread building inside me.

Just as the sun starts to rise, dark clouds cover the sky, and rain starts to fall. I can hear thunder in the distance.  _ Not now… _

I try to get low enough to land, but the wind is even worse by now; it grabs my too-light body, and I’m powerless to stop it…

I’m screaming as I plummet towards an empty field, but I can’t hear myself over the gale…

On instinct, I throw my arms out in front of me. What good will that do?! But it’s all I can think of...

A sharp pain snaps through my left wrist as I hit the ground.

And then the world goes black.


	2. Chapter Two: Thea

“Can I talk to you three? We haven't had a family meeting in a while.”

My daughters glance at each other. Caitlin looks annoyed, and Iris seems worried. But Mercy smiles, her four iridescent wings moving rapidly. “Sure!” she says.

“You don't have to speak for us,” Caitlin mutters. “So what's this ‘meeting’ even about?”

“She's right for once,” Mercy admits, smile fading suddenly. “You never call these unless something's changing.” Her eyes widen. “I don't like change…”

“Is it something with the house?” Iris adds. “Please don't tell me we’ll have to move…”

“No, we're staying for now,” I explain quickly. “And nothing will change...I hope. But the election--”

My phone suddenly rings, startling everyone. “Sorry, girls. We'll talk later.”

I slip into the next room. Caller ID says it's from the hospital. _This can't be good..._

“This is Delores Whitney.” The connection is bad, and I can barely make out what my boss is saying. “...need to come in right away…”

“Why?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“...found a child…suspected abuse case...kid's denying it, but...”

The line goes dead.

**

Delores and a young nurse greet me in the waiting room.

“We had to knock him out--he wouldn't let me get close otherwise,” the nurse explains, leading us down a long hall. “But he should be coming around now.”

Delores shakes her head sadly. “He's a mutant, by the way. An...obvious one. But that's no excuse.”

We enter the ward. There's nothing in this room except a hospital bed near the window. I approach cautiously.

The kid stares up at me silently; his orange eyes are still slightly unfocused from the sedation.

“Hey bud. How are you feeling?” I ask, grabbing a plastic chair from the corner.

“...my wrist kind of hurts, I guess.” His voice is so soft that I have to lean in to hear him.

“I can imagine.” I glance at his cast, trying not to be too obvious. But he notices this anyway.

“It's not that bad. Really. I'm f-fine...”

I don't argue with him, but...he doesn't look fine. At all. He's so thin and delicate-looking, for one thing; I feel like one good push could shatter him...

“Have they given you anything to eat?”

The nurse cuts in before he can answer. “We've got him on IV nutrition for now.”

“Good. That's a start, at least. So...kid.”

“My name's Cove,” he says, immediately looking mortified. “I mean--I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't speak out of turn…”

“It's okay, Cove,” I say. He seems to relax slightly at this. Maybe now would be a good time to start asking the real questions…

“Where did you come from, anyway? Is anyone looking for you?”

He doesn't answer.

I hesitate. “What about your family? Your parents, maybe?”

The nurse glares at me in obvious disapproval. I feel kind of guilty, but asking these questions is pretty much my job…

Cove stares at nothing, a strange expression crossing his face. “Y-yes, I have parents. And they'll have to punish me now, I guess”

“What do you mean?” I ask, unnerved. “If they hurt you, then we can't send you back!”

“It's what I deserve,” he says. “I'm dangerous--they have to keep me in line somehow...” His eyes suddenly fill with tears.

I decide to back off. “Let's talk about something else for now...is there anything you do for fun? Like a hobby or something?”

“...I used to draw,” he mumbles. “Before Father took my papers and pencils away.”

I write this down, feeling sad. _So it was his father? Why am I not surprised?_

“Do you want to try it again?”

Cove glances at me suspiciously. “You won't rip it up after I'm done?”

“Never.” I take some blank papers and a pencil off my clipboard and hand them to him.

**

The nurse sighs as we stand in the hallway. “Do you really think this was a good time to--?”

I shrug. “It calmed him down, didn't it?”

“Look. We need answers. _As soon as possible.”_

 _“_ And we won't get them if we send the kid into a panic attack!”

She stares at me for a moment with obvious distaste. “Alright, you win this round. But remember who the medical professional is here.”

I step back into the room.

Cove has managed to stand and walk to the window. As much as I hate to admit this, he seems somehow more pitiful when he's not lying down; his tattered grey shorts make his legs look even skinnier than they are.

“What do you think you're doing?” the nurse demands.

He flinches, drawing his wings closer to himself. “I'm sorry, Miss. I just wanted to see out. I've n-never had a window without bars before.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just get back to bed.”

“Can't you give him a break?” I whisper. “He's been abused--pretty badly, by the looks of it.”

“We don't know that yet!”

“Oh, it wasn't abuse,” he says from the other side of the room. I turn towards him, surprised. How good is this kid's hearing, anyway?!

The nurse grins in triumph. “See? Nothing to worry about. He's just--”

Cove continues speaking as though there was no interruption. “I wouldn't wish it on anyone--it was terrible, I won't deny that. But I'm a monster. So I deserved what I got.” His voice is eerily calm; but his wings twitch, and the feathers are ruffled.

“And what did you ‘get', exactly?” the nurse asks. I was wondering the same thing, but hearing her say it so blatantly makes me cringe…

He remains silent.

“Okay, don't tell me! We're only trying to help, you know…”

She storms out, leaving me alone with Cove.

“Don't pay any attention to her,” I say, crossing the room to stand by the bed again. “You can tell us when you're ready.”

The painkillers she gave him before she left are taking hold by now; he closes his eyes. “...want to go back.”

“Are you okay?” I lean forward slightly, trying not to startle him.

“...I miss the basement. It was safe…”

Alarm fills me. _“_ What do you mean by that? Did your parents...lock you away?”

No answer--he's already asleep. But I think I know enough for one day.

I’ve heard of cases like this. Even studied a few in college. But they're few and far between; I never thought I'd have to deal with one myself. And they usually don't end well. Most of the kids either die before escaping, or they end up completely feral.

I don't know all the details yet, but one thing's for sure: whatever Cove went through, it's a miracle that he survived. Not to mention the fact that he can talk at all.

But...is it really over for him? _He has a lot of healing to do_ , I realize, looking at his still form. _Physically and mentally..._


	3. Cove

I stay in this strange place for a long time. The woman keeps coming back, and I eventually learn that her name is Thea. She says she likes my drawings, and she hasn't beaten me yet...

They're getting frustrated, though. Thea and all the others. I can tell.

“So you won't give us your parents’ names,” she says one day. “But can you at least tell me their jobs? Or what they look like?”

I really want to, if only because it might make her happy. But...

“Why don't you understand?” I ask, suddenly overcome with anger I can't explain. “I’m a monster--I don't deserve to be treated well. And besides, they could've killed me. But they didn't. So they must love me, right?”

“No!! None of that's true at all!”

I stare at her, stunned. Father wouldn’t think of missing a chance to yell at me, but Thea has never been anything but calm…

“I’m sorry,” she continues in a normal voice. “But I don’t want you saying that, okay? You went through some horrible things, and denying it won’t do you any favors....”

“But I’m  _ fine _ ,” I insist. “It wasn’t  _ that _ bad, I swear!”

She looks at me for a long time. “How old are you again? Twelve, right?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with--”

“Cove. Just listen to me, okay?? When you were found two weeks ago, you barely weighed 70 pounds. Which...isn't nearly enough, not for someone your age.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” I argue. But I don't sound very convincing, even to myself.

She sighs and shakes her head. “That's not all. The clothes you had were pretty much just rags. Wouldn’t a loving parent let you wear something in decent condition, at least?”

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “If I was human.”

She doesn't miss the bitterness in my voice. “But you  _ are _ . That's what I'm trying to tell you…”

"What about...you know." I gesture vaguely with one wing. "I don't think humans are supposed to have these…"

"My youngest daughter got hers three years ago," she tells me. "They're not like yours; they're almost transparent, and they don't have feathers. But still. You're not as alone as you think."

I try to imagine this girl and her wings, but I can't. "You're just saying that to make me happy."

Before Thea can reply, Nurse Karen rushes in. I lower my eyes, still not trusting her. There's something in the way she looks at me that reminds me of Father…

"The test results are in," she says to Thea. "He's deficient in pretty much everything. Poor sap." She turns to me

"You shouldn't have survived, really."

"Don't," Thea tells her. "You'll scare him with that kind of talk…"

Karen scowls. "Fine. I was just trying to be honest, but if you'd rather I lied to him…"

"Well, you don't have to be  _ that _ blunt, do you?"

"It's fine," I say quickly.

**

I don't see Thea for a few days, and I start to worry that I made her upset somehow.

When she does come back, she looks nervous. A different person is next to her--a man this time. But he's wearing the same kind of clothes that Karen did.

"This is my husband Rusty," Thea explains. "He's a nurse here. And he has an idea that he says might help you…"

He tries to smile, but it looks strained and fake to me. "You've been stuck in this one room for almost three weeks now, haven't you?"

"I guess," I tell him. "I'm used to it, though…"

He stares at me. "Okay then. Anyway, you'll need to get out eventually. So...how would you like to start today? We wouldn't go very far, just to the end of the hallway and back."

"Wait, really?" I ask. I'm starting to feel a little excited, which surprises me.  _ Since when do I have anything to look forward to?! _

**

Thea and Rusty step out while I get dressed.

The dark green sweater they brought me is a lot warmer than anything the Governor let me have...which is a relief, since I pretty much feel cold all the time.

**

Thea's gone, but Rusty waits for me until I step into the hall; he nods encouragingly as I follow behind him.

After a few minutes, I stop to rest.

"You okay?"

"I think so…"

Actually, I feel kind of dizzy. But there's no way I'm telling him that.  _ I can't show weakness, everything has to be fine… _

He looks at me closely. "You're still healing, remember. And it might take awhile for you to get your strength back…"

"I  _ know." _

**

By the time we get back to my room, my leg has started to ache; and I'm limping worse than usual. Rusty helps me to a chair that someone pushed against the wall.

"Karen says you probably have cerebral palsy."

I look away. I'm not even sure what that is, but I'm still embarrassed. "Sorry," I whisper.

Rusty almost reaches out to touch my arm, but he seems to think better of it at the last second. "You don't have to apologize," he says. "You've done nothing wrong."

"But I'm evil." My hands start to shake slightly. "And inhuman, and disgusting, and  _ bad _ ."

He sighs. Now I've really done it--he'll punish me for complaining…

But he doesn't. Instead he just sits there, looking sad but not angry or annoyed. "Someone's told you that more than once or twice. Probably a lot more. But that doesn't mean they were telling the truth."

I remain silent.

**

Some doctors come in the next day. A whole lot of them, actually. I close off again when I see them, feeling uneasy around so many new people. My wings automatically wrap around my body as a sort of defense.

"We're not going to hurt you," one of them says. "I'm just going to see if you're healing. And these interns will stand back and learn from me."

"He's not your plaything," Thea snaps. She seems to be in a bad mood suddenly. "He has rights, you can't just treat him like an exhibit."

The doctor looks annoyed. "Well, I have to do my job. But...I guess the rest of you should go."

They leave; he starts to take my blood pressure and everything. I'm used to all this by now, but I still don't like it. The feeling of being close to people, and even letting them touch me...

"You're still short for your age. Not to mention  _ really  _ skinny," he tells me after I've been weighed and measured. "You need to eat more, or else we'll have to put you back on the IV."

"Tell me something I don't know…"

I don't mean to be rude, but I'm getting tired of hearing about this. Besides, it's a lie anyway. Father always said that I was greedy and I ate too much.

**

I don't sleep well that night. When I try to rest, I can almost see the Governor again…

I've barely closed my eyes when voices from the hall wake me up.

"There's already someone in this room, but I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

Rusty and Karen enter the room, along with some other adults I don't know. Karen is pushing a girl in a wheelchair; she looks about my age. I lie very still, hoping they won't notice I'm awake.

The girl stares at me as they help her into the other bed. It's still dark; I can't see much of her face. But her parents are standing closer to me, so I get a good look at them.

The girl's father is tall, but not quite as tall as the Governor. A wide-brimmed hat hides his eyes.

His wife looks almost exactly like him, except she's wearing a blue dress.

She peers down at me. "Excuse me…"

Rusty looks up from tending to the girl. "Is everything okay?"

"Well, our Prudence deserves the best care. She shouldn't have to associate with  _ weird _ people. And this boy is a weird person for sure."

He raises his eyebrows. "You don't even know him. Why would you say that?"

"His hair is so long!" she says, seeming all too eager to criticize me. "He looks like a girl. Not to mention the way he's looking at me without saying a word...can he even talk? Or is he too stupid?"

I sit up quickly, my wings flaring out at my sides. In my rage, I forget to keep them folded. "Don't call me that!"

Silence falls over the room for a split second. Then the woman screams.

"Get it away from me! It's one of the demon children!"

"What are you talking about?" Rusty demands.

She clutches her cross necklace and moves closer to her husband. "You should have killed it when you had the chance."

Prudence begins to cry. "It's going to take me to Hell!"

"Not yet, darling," the man says, speaking for the first time. "As long as you don't touch him you should be okay. As for you so-called doctors…"

He turns on Rusty. "You have a choice. My daughter, or this  _ thing _ . And mark my words: if you choose the wrong one, I'll sue this hospital with all the money I've got."


	4. Sam

Father yells at me for at least half an hour.

"You never told me!"

"I didn't know either," I say, my voice flat.

He eventually lets me go with one last warning. "Just act like nothing's changed. Unless you want to end up like your brother, that is."

**

The next day is almost normal. I walk to school early, hoping no one will notice me that way.

I used to think being the Governor's son would protect me. But I've learned that he doesn't care. And neither does anyone else--not in this school, at least.

The first bell rings. I hurry towards the front doors--Father would never forgive me if he found out I was late! I can already imagine what he'd say:  _ You have an image to keep up. You're going to be the next Governor, after all. And future leaders can't skip school whenever they feel like it. _

A shadow falls over me. "Going somewhere?"

I look up, trying to sound more defiant than I feel. "Leave me alone, Anderson."

He grins. "What're you gonna do? Tell your dad to sue us?"

His thugs laugh. They all know by now that Father wouldn't get involved unless they killed me…

"Why are you even in summer school, anyway?" one of them asks. "Aren't you, like, the teachers' pet?"

"That's  _ exactly _ why," Anderson says. "I heard they signed him up for  _ advanced classes…" _

_ " _ You're just jealous. At least I didn't have to repeat algebra twice," I snap. But this is a huge mistake; Anderson's face turns red, and he raises his fist. I close my eyes and brace myself, hoping it doesn't leave a bruise. The last thing I need is for Father to start asking questions…

But the punch never lands. After a second, I realize that the air has turned bitterly cold.

I cautiously open my eyes, and a few snowflakes fly past my face.

_ What's going on…? _

We live in Maine. Of course I'm used to freezing weather. But it's June right now…

Anderson starts yelling. "What did you do to me?!"

I feel as confused as he does. "I'm not doing anything, I swear!"

That's when I look at him more closely.

Only to see that his legs are encased in ice...

One of his friends grabs me. "You've got to fix this!"

I've never seen these guys freak out like this. And for once, I don't blame them.

_ Is this my fault?  _ I wonder. _ I can't be a mutant. I'm not like Cove… _

I feel a rush of anger when  _ his  _ name enters my mind. That traitor! Did he ever care about me at all?

The snow is falling more heavily now. As I take a step towards Anderson, the ground beneath my feet begins to freeze over.

"Get away from me! I always knew you were a freak!"

I look around desperately. How do I turn this off?!

If my stupid brother was here, he could melt the ice with his stupid fire powers. But I'm on my own.

Anderson's still ranting in the background. 

"Shut up and let me think!" I tell him.

One of his friends runs off and comes back with a bucket of water, which steams as the cold air hits it. I glare at the guy. "Really?"

"Do you have any better ideas, ice boy?"

He has a point there. So I step back and let him throw the water at Anderson.

And, somehow, it actually works; the ice melts.

**

We all stand around in shock, just looking at each other. I'm the first one to speak. "None of you tell  _ anyone  _ about this."

A slow smile spreads across Anderson's face. His fear has been forgotten now that he's in control again. "Why should I listen to you?"

"Because…" I hesitate, scrambling for a good reason. "I'll do anything you want. If you keep this between us."

**

I get home late. My parents are out; there's no note or anything, but I'm sure they're at some meeting. I don't mind, though. This is a rare chance to be alone with my thoughts…

_ What *was* that? _

No, that's not the right question. I know exactly what it was. What it meant.

I should be asking: what will Mother and Father say?

They were willing to torture and starve one mutant. And they nearly killed him. Even though he was their son.

Who's to say the same thing won't happen to me?

_ Well...maybe I just won't tell them. _

But just the idea of keeping a secret like this…

I shiver slightly, and not just because I'm still feeling cold.


	5. Thea

"What are we supposed to do?" I look desperately at Rusty, but he doesn't answer. "We can't just turn him out," I continue. "But these people could ruin all our lives..."

He takes my hand. "I know."

Mercy clambers onto the couch between us. "What are you guys talking about?"

"We can't tell you that, honey," I remind her. "Privacy, you know."

She sighs. Her angled brown eyes, a reflection of mine, are trained on Rusty's face. "Are you sure? Dad?"

Caitlin appears in the doorway, looking annoyed. "Is she bothering you again?"

"She's fine," I say. "But we do need to talk without you two around."

**

After they leave, Rusty smiles slightly. "You're really good with kids, you know that?"

"They're not exactly  _ kids.  _ Mercy's thirteen now."

"But even when they were younger," he insists.

An idea begins to take hold in the back of my mind. But I ignore it for now.

_ That would never work. _

**

When I visit the hospital a few days later, I'm relieved to see that Prudence and her family are gone.

"They left early this morning," Rusty says. "Good riddance, if you ask me." He looks worried. "I just hope they don't go through with all their threats…"

"That's for sure. Hey, where's--?"

Cove enters the room at that moment, looking a little overwhelmed...but he's also closer to smiling than he's ever been since I've met him. "Thea!! Guess what just happened?!"

"What is it?" I ask, trying not to worry. He looks happy--in his way. But I always tend to assume the worst...

"I actually got to go outside!!"

"He did well, too," Karen says. She may not have liked Cove at first, but I think she's warming up to him.

He seems embarrassed suddenly."I mean, I had to use this thing…"

For the first time, I notice that he's holding a cane. I fall silent, unsure what to say.

"That's okay, though!" he adds quickly. "It was still great." His eyes widen. "I never realized the world was this  _ big…" _

I look at him.  _ He's so young,  _ I realize suddenly. It's easy to forget sometimes. But he really is just a kid…

That idea from earlier enters my mind again. I shake my head slightly, but it doesn't go away this time.

**

"What if we took him in?"

Rusty stares at me blankly. "Are you kidding? No way."

"Why not?" I ask. "He can't stay in that hospital forever.  _ Someone  _ needs to help him…"

"Yeah, someone who knows what they're doing!"

"Like us, maybe? We've already adopted two kids, remember?"

"That's different," Rusty insists. "Iris and Caitlin went through a lot, but they weren't  _ tortured _ . As for Cove...well, he was. And let's face it: he has serious issues."

"Which is exactly why he needs us."

**

But I have my doubts, too, I realize the next day.

"He's having a rough time," Karen warns me.

I brace myself, not wanting to ask what that means. Some of the kids I've worked with have been pretty violent. I don't blame them; it's what they learned. But still…

**

To my relief, Cove isn't one of those cases after all. He's curled up in a defensive position; his eyes are glazed. And he doesn't seem to notice me...but he's not fighting, either.  _ Thank God _ , I think in spite of myself.

I turn to Karen. "What happened?"

She shakes her head. "We were just joking around--he was fine, he even seemed happy. And then I said something about sending him to the basement. I didn't mean anything by it; I was being sarcastic. But he just lost it…"

Cove flinches when Karen says the word 'basement'. 

"N-no," he whispers. "I don't wanna be locked away again, I-I'll do whatever you want, just-- _ please…" _

Karen glances at me as though to say,  _ You handle this _ . It's clear that, for all her training and experience, she's out of her depth right now.

So I take action. "Cove?" I ask. "Can you look at me for a second?"

After a moment, he does as I tell him.

"Do you...know who I am?"

"Y-yes, sir."

I glance at Karen.  _ Sir? _ she mouths, looking annoyed. But the only thing I feel is a deep sadness.

"I'm not your father. I'm Thea--the social worker who's been helping you?"

He lowers his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

Karen covers her mouth with one hand, stifling a giggle. I glare at her. "It's not funny! Can't you see how terrified he is?"

But this is a mistake; Cove picks up on my anger. "Don't h-hurt me!" he begs, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

I make an effort to soften my voice. "You're in the hospital, not...that other place," I tell him.

This seems to pull his mind back to the present, at least a little. He swipes a hand across his eyes. "Y-you're sure?"

"Yes. You're safe here."

Cove takes a deep, shaky breath. "I'm glad it wasn't real…"

"You and me both." I almost want to hug him, but I know how he feels about being touched. So I hold off.

He glances at the clock. "Th-thea?"

"What is it?"

"I don't know what that says. Is it almost time for lunch?"

I smile in spite of myself. "Are you hungry?"

"Y-yeah," he admits, looking guilty for a moment. But then he smiles wanly back at me. "Can I have some food? Please," he adds quickly.

Karen glances sideways at me once we're out of earshot. "Well, he doesn't know a lot of things, but he's definitely polite."


	6. Cove

I sit bolt-upright with a terrified gasp. He was just  _ right there _ \--and he was  _ hurting  _ me--

After a few seconds, I remember where I am.

It was just a nightmare. The Governor is miles away from here.

But it all seemed so real…

I don't get back to sleep for a long time after that.

**

Other than the dreams, things are going okay. I've started physical therapy, which is kind of weird. Everyone says it's supposed to help with my limp and everything, but I don't believe it; I'm not  _ that  _ stupid.

And group therapy is just as bad. On my first day, I meet the others: a few girls, only one other boy.

They stare at me silently. I can feel the oldest girl taking in all the stuff that's wrong with me: my wings, of course. And my cane, and the scars on my face...

She turns to the others and whispers something; they burst into shrill laughter.

I sit down silently, not making eye contact with them.

"So what's your problem?" the boy asks.

"N-nothing. I don't h-have a 'problem'…"

The group looks at each other, unimpressed. "You're a mutant," the short blonde girl says. "That's bad enough."

**

The rest of the meeting drags on. A woman who calls herself Jane turns out to be our therapist. She tells me to introduce myself.

I look fixedly at the wooden tabletop. "M-my name's Cove," I say.

The third girl smirks. "St-stop st-st-stuttering," she says, mocking me.

"Don't be rude, Sadie. We've talked about this," Jane says.

Sadie rolls her eyes. "You have to admit he sounds stupid…"

**

"How was it?"

"Terrible," I admit, not looking at Rusty. "That Sadie has it out for me."

"What about the others?"

"...they didn't really talk much."

"Think positive," he says. "They'll warm up to you eventually."

I sigh slightly. Everyone's been telling me this stuff lately.  _ Just cheer up! Look on the bright side! _

Well, they wouldn't be happy either, if they had to spend their whole lives locked in a basement…

With that thought in mind, I turn away to stare at the wall.

**

As Rusty leaves, I hear him talking to Karen in the hallway.

"To be honest, I think he's depressed."

"Like clinically?"

"I don't know for sure yet."

Whatever those words mean, it's none of my business. So I just keep staring at that wall.

**

I wake up to rain pounding against the window. How long was I asleep?

As I'm trying to figure this out, Thea rushes in. She's usually the picture of calm...but today her left eye is twitching, and she holds her clipboard so tightly that her knuckles are white.

"You're already dressed," she says quickly. "That's good. We didn't buy you a coat or anything yet, maybe we should've. And you'll need your cane, of course."

Every instinct I have tells me to _shut up, look away, and_ _don't ask questions_. But I can't stop myself. "What's going on?"

"One of those girls--Sadie, was it?--anyway, she told her parents that she wouldn't go to therapy with a mutant. They freaked out, and now they're causing a bigger storm than Prudence ever did." She pauses for breath, then continues, "So...you'll have to leave the hospital."

**

"I'm sorry about this," Thea says while we're heading out. "It wasn't my decision…"

I look away. I really thought she was different. But she's throwing me out. Leaving me behind. Just like everyone else did.

**

I don't expect to sleep while we're traveling. The car moves so quickly that I feel sick, for one thing. But I eventually pass out anyway.

The next thing I hear is Thea's voice. "We're here," she says.

I get out of the car and look around, still half-asleep. Thea and I are standing on a path made of flat brown stones. This leads to a house that's painted a color somewhere between grey and white. It's...well, not as clean and polished as the governor's mansion, or even what I saw of the hospital. But I still get the feeling that someone like me--someone who's impure down to the core of who they are--won't be allowed to go inside.

"Come  _ on _ , Cove. Don't keep them waiting," Thea says.

**

"So you're our new charge?" The woman standing in front of me purses her bright-red lips, looking less than impressed.

I stare at the floor, letting my hair cover my eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you know what that means?"

"N-not exactly…"

She sighs and shakes her head before looking at Thea. "You didn't tell me the boy was mentally slow!"

"He's not--never mind that. Just...please try to help him. You're our only option here." Thea touches my arm, and for some reason I don't flinch. "Goodbye, Cove. And...good luck."

She leaves quickly after that. I still don't raise my head.

"Look at me," the new woman says. "Are you paying attention? Good. My name is Camille Smithwell. You can call me Mrs. S, or Mother. Whichever you prefer. Do you understand?"

I nod mutely, glancing away again.

"Can't you look me in the eye?" she asks a little impatiently.

"Sorry," I say, forcing myself to do what she says.

Mrs. S continues on, explaining that I've been put in foster care for...well, she doesn't say how long it will last. She also goes through all the rules of the house. I'm used to rules; Father had plenty of them, and he wasn't afraid to "remind" me when I broke one.

"Remember, in this house we always--are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Mrs. S…"

"Then act like it!"

I don't look away from her again. Even when it starts to hurt…

I've never been good with eye contact. Father said I was stupid for it, but it's one thing I can't help.

Mrs. S looks down at the thick folder in her hands. "So what's wrong with you? Oh.  _ Oh _ ." She raises her eyebrows. When she starts talking again, her voice is louder and slower than before. "Anyway, I hope you can learn to get along with me and my family."

**

Mrs. S leads me to another room. "This is my daughter Isabella," she says. "Isabella, meet Cove. You can show him around, but try not to confuse him."

Isabella is sitting on the floor, surrounded by paper and pencils. She glances up, smiling sweetly. "Of course."

Her mother leaves, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Come sit down," she offers. I do what she says, taking my place beside her.

She stares at me. "I never thought I'd see a real live mutant before. Let alone have one in my  _ house _ . Just wait until I tell my friends!"

I laugh nervously. "I'm not that special. Honest."

"I still think it'll be fun. Like having a pet, only better!" Isabella pauses for a second. "So...are all of your kind crippled? Or is that just you?"


	7. Sam

Mother looks at me closely. "Are you sure you want to go? You look pale…"

"I'm fine. This is really important. And it'll look good when I'm applying to Harvard, right?"

"That's right," the Governor says. "Don't be soft on the boy, Jillian."

I stay quiet, forcing myself to smile. They think I'm the perfect son.

_ Samuel Hartford. The one who does everything they say. He never complains; he's headed to an Ivy League school. _

_ At noon today, he'll be tested to see if he can skip eighth grade. Another step towards becoming the future Governor. _

_ For now, he's Delbrooke's golden boy. _

Too bad that's not me anymore.

Maybe it never was.

**

I leave the house and start walking towards the middle school. But once I'm well away from the Governor's house, I slip away from the crowd.

The sound of early morning traffic fades as I leave Main Street. But I stay alert. The outskirts of town are still full of commuters; any of them could recognize me and report back to my dad.

I shake my head.  _ Don't call him 'dad',  _ I tell myself. He's always been strict about that. Cove learned early on to use the word Father--at least on the days when he was willing to talk at all. But I've never gotten used to it.

After a while, I find myself in a field full of sun-baked corn stalks. The plants are high enough to cover me completely. That's a good thing--it means no one will see what I'm about to try.

I haven't used my powers since the fight with Anderson. But I've come close a few times; they're getting harder to control the longer I hold off.

I stretch my arms out in front of me, willing the ice to come. But nothing happens.

In a way, that's a relief. Maybe it was just a dream last time. Maybe I'm not a freak after all.

Maybe Father still has a reason to love me.

Tears form in my eyes at this thought, but I fiercely blink them away. Hartfords don't cry. It would ruin our reputation.

"Well, I don't care about your reputation!" I yell. A few birds take off and fly away, startled.

And then my arms begin to glow a pale blue.

_ No. Anything but this... _

Before I can react, a blast of ice bursts from my hands.

As the cornfield begins to frost over, I turn and run away.


	8. Cove

"Madison and Kelsey will be so jealous! Neither of them has ever seen a mutant before either…"

Isabella wants me to meet her friends; she's been talking about it all day. I try to ignore her, but it's not easy.

Her cell phone buzzes. It's all I can do not to stare as she glances at the screen. I've seen something like this before. Father used one for work, I think. But I never touched it, or even came close.

"That was Maddie," Isabella says brightly, not noticing my blank look. "She and Kels will be here soon! I can't wait to show them…"

**

"So this is your brother?"

"Mom's fostering him," Isabella says quickly. "We're not related or anything!"

Madison looks scornful. "You'd better not be." 

Kelsey watches her without speaking, then slowly turns to me. Her blue eyes widen as she looks at my wings. I brace myself, half-expecting her to ask about them.

She doesn't. But her actual question isn't much better.

"Is it true that you lived in a basement?"

I freeze, breath hitching in my chest. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter." She tosses her head, eyes searching my face. "Anyhow, I'd  _ pay  _ to have my room in the basement. At least I'd be able to get some privacy, you know?"

The air shimmers around me, and my hands begin to spark.  _ Stop it _ , I tell myself. I've managed to contain my fire since I escaped; I'm not about to lose control now!

But Madison notices anyway. "So he's an elemental?" she snaps at Isabella.

"Don't blame me, I didn't know!"

I ignore them and focus on Kelsey. "You don't know what it was like…"

"So tell me, then. Did your parents beat you or something?"

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" I ask, suddenly furious. "Because it's 'yes'. They did. Every time I did anything they didn't like, they'd hit me with whatever they had. Sometimes it was just their hands. Other times, it was a belt." I push back the sleeves of my shirt, revealing the jagged scars on my arms. "And sometimes they did  _ this  _ to me! Now do you understand?!" I'm practically yelling by the end, but I can't seem to stop myself.

The girls stare at me, horrified. I run my hand over my face, which is wet with tears. I didn't realize I was crying until now.

Without saying another word, I leave. The room they gave me is a lot nicer than the basement. There's a real bed, a nightstand, and a large window. It even has carpeted floors. But all this only makes me feel worse; I don't deserve any of it.

I sit in the corner and bring my knees to my chest, overwhelmed. Everything is wrong. I should still be locked away…

In desperation, I close my eyes and try to reach out to my brother. Our link should still work even though he's far away. At least I hope so.

_ Can you hear me? I know you were upset, but I need to talk to you… _

The seconds turn to minutes.  _ Sam? Please...don't leave me here... _

All I get in return is radio silence and an empty feeling in my chest.


	9. Thea

Cove barely looks up when I approach. He's sitting silently on the couch; I can't see his wings, except for a vague shape under the blanket draped over him.

"How are you doing?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Mrs. S told me you've felt really sad lately," I continue gently. "And that you haven't been sleeping well. Is that true?"

"It doesn't matter," he says, glancing at me. He looks away quickly, but I can see the hurt in his eyes all too plainly.

We fall into silence for a while. Then Cove finally turns to me. "Why did you bring me here, Thea? These people hate me. And…" He scowls, suddenly looking fiercely angry. "I hate them too!"

"I know. But they were…"

"...the only ones who would take me," he finishes dully. "What a surprise."

I stare at him. How can this bitter, sarcastic boy possibly be the same sweet kid I knew?

After a few seconds, I see something of the old Cove in his face. "I'm sorry. It's just...you were right earlier. I almost never sleep anymore. And I'm either sad all the time, or I don't care about anything."

I hesitate. "Have you ever heard of depression?"

"No. Is it...bad?"

"Yes, in a way...but that's not your fault. It's a mental illness. Basically, a sickness that affects how you think and feel. And from what you told me just now, it definitely sounds like you might have it."

Cove stares at me, eyes wider than ever. "Will you start feeling this way, too? Now that you've been around me?"

"It's not contagious," I reassure him. "I'll be just fine. But you do need help to get better, just like with any other illness. Let me talk to Mrs. Smithwell about this, okay?"

**

Camille scowls slightly. "So he's a headcase? I could've told you that."

"That's not what I meant." I try to keep my patience. "All I'm saying is, he seems to be depressed. I wouldn't be surprised if he has PTSD on top of that. And he would benefit from seeing a therapist."

Her eyes narrow. "I never liked you, even in high school. You barely spoke English, but somehow everyone loved you. Why?"

"We're not here to talk about me," I reply as evenly as possible, hoping she doesn't hear the irritation in my voice. "Will you at least consider getting Cove some professional help? I know some good therapists if you need suggestions."

"No thanks," Camille says coldly. "All teens act out and get angry. You just want to stick a label on every kid to add to your paycheck!"

I shake my head. "Well, it's up to him in the end. Just talk to him about it, all right? I'll be back in a few days."

**

When I get home, I try not to think about Cove. I can't let my work interfere with my husband and kids, after all. But he keeps entering my mind anyway.

Where did he come from? I can't stand the thought that his abusers might still be free somewhere.

Will he ever really be happy? There's always been something haunted in his eyes, even on his good days.

Suddenly there's a crash from another room. I force myself to focus on my own kids for now as I hurry to investigate.

**

Mercy's lying on the ground, looking a little dazed.

Caitlin stands a few feet away, arms crossed. "She tried to fly for too long. Again."

"Did not!" Mercy protests, sitting up indignantly.

"Then why did your wings give out?"

Her eyes fill with tears. "You know why!"

Caitlin's about to answer, but she's interrupted by the announcement blaring from the TV.

"This just in," a reporter says. "Jillian Hartford, the wife of our beloved Governor, is in the hospital after being hit by a car. The police say she's alive and stable, but with some injuries, including…"

I quickly change the channel. We've all seen more than enough pain lately, in my opinion.


	10. Cove

"Enough with the whining! You don't even know her…"

I flinch, struggling to control myself. Mrs. S turns to her husband. "He's been crying for the past hour. Ever since that news about Hartford. It's really getting on my nerves."

He hesitates. "Should we call his caseworker? This isn't normal…"

"Are you as stupid as he is, John?" she demands. "That woman doesn't know anything. And of  _ course  _ he's not normal. This is a mutant we're talking about, remember?"

This only makes me start crying harder; Mrs. S throws up her hands and leaves the room.

I'm dimly aware of John sitting next to me. "I'm sorry about her," he says. "If it helps, Jillian's going to make it."

I turn to him quickly, desperate for any news. "Really? She's not..."

"...dead? No. They said she just has some nasty scrapes, a broken wrist. Guess you can relate," he adds, looking at my left arm. I got the cast off a few days ago, but it's still in a sling.

"I miss her so much…" I say quietly. I don't realize what I said until John speaks again.

"What do you mean? You'd have no way of knowing Jillian, not if you were stuck in a basement your whole life."

I stiffen. They can't find out, or it's all over! "I just meant, I  _ would _ miss her while she was in the hospital. If I was part of her family."

But this is a terrible lie, and John sees right through it. "Look. You don't have to tell me the truth, Cove…but how else will I be able to help you?" 

I weigh the options. After a few seconds, I finally make my decision. 

"I do know Jillian Hartford. Because…" I take a deep breath, forcing myself to look directly at John. "She's my mother."

Disbelief crosses his face. "But that would mean the Governor is the one who…"

"I know it sounds insane," I admit.

He studies my features closely. "You do look like their kid," he admits. "Cameron, the one who died eight years ago? The whole town grieved for him. We all remember what he looked like. And even besides that...if you weren't so thin and sick-looking, you would be a mirror image of the Governor himself."

" _ Please _ don't say that," I tell him quickly, blinking away a few more tears that threaten to spill over. "I don't w-want to be like him…"

**

He calls Thea, who seems nervous when she arrives.

"So you're claiming that your father...is the Governor?"

I nod mutely.

"And you're Cameron Hartford?"

"Y-yeah, I guess. But I haven't called myself that in years. It's  _ his  _ name, not mine."

She runs a hand through her hair. "I don't see why you'd lie about this. But you'll have to take a DNA test to make sure. Are you okay with that?"

I shrug, suddenly exhausted. All I want to do right now is sleep--preferably on my old wooden pallet.

"It's been a long day for you, hasn't it?" Thea asks gently. "How about we get the blood sample tomorrow?"

**

I wake up in tears. Another nightmare--this one was worse than ever.

Even though I'm awake now, the terror doesn't fade. What I did was  _ really _ bad. And once Father hears about it, he's going to kill me!

But maybe there's a way out of this, I realize. I could find my way back to him. Back to the basement. And then I might just be forgiven…

I stand up and take one last look at this bedroom. It was nice of the Smithwells to let me use it, I decide. Maybe after I leave, they'll give it to someone who actually deserves it.

**

The night air is cold on my bare skin; there was no time to grab a shirt. I shiver slightly as I stand in the front yard.

I don't actually know how to get to the Governor's house from here...

It's a huge building, though--practically a mansion. I can't miss it, right?

I begin to walk along the road. But it's slow going; my leg is already starting to hurt.

After just a few minutes, I stop, feeling more than a little annoyed. I'll never get anywhere on the ground. Not with this stupid limp.

But I haven't flown at all since I escaped. Are my wings still strong enough?

There's no other way, I decide.

**

I can't help but smile as I look down at the distant rooftops. I'm finally flying again!

When I'm in the air, none of my problems seem to matter. I forget everything bad that's happened to me; the only things I need to think about are air currents and the stars shining above my head.

It's like I was never in that basement at all.

_ Wait a minute. _

My heart sinks as I remember: I'm going back to that now. Back to a life of darkness and hunger and unending cold.

Even before I discovered my fire powers, the cold was the one thing I couldn't take. I'd spend hours each winter huddled close to the furnace, shivering violently and trying without success to get warm…

When Father finally decided to give me a blanket, it was just a threadbare linen sheet.

_ But that's okay!  _ I tell myself.  _ I won't have to be a burden to anyone. Ever again. _


	11. Jillian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this chapter is slightly more explicit/dark when it comes to depictions of child abuse. Still PG-13, but please use caution!!

For the first time in a while, I'm alone. Dearest is at a meeting, and Sam...well, I don't know where he is. He never tells me anything these days. But he's out, anyway.

I look around at the empty house. Now that no one is telling me what to do, I have no idea where to start.

Glancing in the mirror, I suddenly feel a deep sadness.  _ He's gone, and probably dead, _ I tell myself. Cove looked more like the governor, but there were a few traits he shared with me. My wide grey eyes, sharp nose, and straight black hair were reflected back at me whenever I could sneak down to see him…

He would have been almost handsome if not for years of neglect, I think.

Suddenly, there's a loud knock at the front door.

"Who's there?" I ask softly. "Dearest?"

No one answers for a solid ten seconds. Then he speaks. "Mother?"

At first I'm sure it's a hallucination. But when I open the door, he's standing there on the doorstep.

"Cove?! What are you doing here?"

I don't embrace him or take his hand; he's still as mutated as always, and I shudder at the thought of touching him at all. But I do lead him inside.

He looks around anxiously. "I need to talk to the Governor."

"Your father's not here right now," I tell him. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Probably not. I'll just wait here until he gets back…"

I silently watch Cove as he stands by the window. He looks different--better, I decide. Still too thin, but he's an inch or two taller than he was. And there's a hint of color in his face now.

After a second, he crosses the room and sits down next to me, head lowered in a mixture of respect and fear. Is he afraid of  _ me? _ That makes no sense.  _ I _ wasn't such a bad parent. I only hit him a few times, and that was when Dearest told me I had to.

Offended, I turn away from him.

"I guess I should tell you why I came back?" he asks cautiously. When I don't respond, he continues, "John--he's my foster dad, or at least he was--anyway, he started asking questions. So I told him about the Governor…"

This gets my attention. "You  _ what _ ?"

"I know I should've kept my mouth shut...but I can make up for it!" Desperation creeps into his voice. "I'll be good from now on. I swear..."

"It doesn't matter what you do," I say a little too harshly. "Once your father finds out that you risked his image? He might just kill you on the spot."

Before he can answer, a car pulls into the driveway.

**

"So you decided to come crawling back, is that right?"

All the newfound color drains from Cove's face. But to his credit, he remains calm. "Yes, sir."

"And you really expect me to care for you? As though you're my  _ son?!" _

"N-no, sir," Cove says quickly. "I don't need much food, or a bed, or anything! You don't even have to talk to me. I just want to serve you again…"

The Governor thinks about this, then smiles slowly. "Okay. If you can prove that you'll do what I say, then maybe I'll let you live. Now get on your knees. You don't deserve to stand in front of me."

Cove instantly obeys, wincing slightly as he tries to move his leg. "Of course, Sir…"

I close my eyes. I hate my son for being so pathetic. I hate Dearest for making him that way. Most of all, I hate myself for not having the courage to step in.

A sharp  _ smack  _ cuts through the air. "You can't even kneel properly!" 

When I dare to look again, Cove is sprawled on his back. A red mark in the shape of the Governor's open hand spreads across the side of his face.

"Jillian, take our pet to the basement. I'm tired of dealing with it. And by the way? You should stand guard and make sure it doesn't escape again."

This is not a suggestion.

**

I can hear him sobbing throughout most of the night. At around 3 AM, he finally quiets down. But the silence is almost as bad.


	12. Cove

_ What have I done? _

I'm too worn out to keep crying. So I just lie there, staring at the ceiling. My head aches, but I barely notice.

I didn't even say goodbye to Thea. She'll be wondering where I am. Maybe she'll hate me now.

Not that it matters.

Why did I ever think I could function in the outside world? This basement is all I know. All I  _ deserve  _ to know. 

I'll die here someday, I realize.  _ Hopefully soon _ , a dark voice inside my head says. I drape one arm across my swollen eyes and try not to think anymore.

**

Hours later, I wake up to the sound of something being dragged down the stairs.

The scraping gets closer, then stops. I sit up and summon a small flame in one hand; it flickers weakly, but I don't have the energy to make it brighter.

I can barely see Father standing in front of me. Beside him is some kind of plastic tub. The dim light shines on something inside it. Water, maybe?

"Put that out," the Governor whispers, glancing around quickly. I've never seen him like this before, not even on the night I escaped.

The realization hits me then:  _ I have nothing left to lose. _

"Why?" I ask him with sudden defiance.

Something dark flashes through his eyes. "You're five foot nothing, and you can't weigh more than 80 pounds. I could break any bone in your body with no trouble. Do you really want to test me?"

White-hot rage builds inside my head. But after years of being beaten into submission, I can't just disobey him...

I reluctantly close my hand into a fist and extinguish the fire.

Father moves quickly, grabbing my still-healing wrist and forcing me towards the basin. Up close, I can see that it's not just full of water; ice cubes also float near the surface.

"I've done my research on your kind," he whispers. There's a hint of madness in his voice that I never noticed before. "The only way to stop a fire mage is to freeze its source of power--which is usually centered around its hands."

I stare at him mutely. Even he wouldn't go this far...right?

"Put your arms in the water," he says almost gently.

Despite everything, I try to reason with him. "I can't. It would probably k-kill me…"

There's nothing gentle about his next words. "Now, before I pour it over your head!"

The water steams slightly when it comes in contact with my skin. I gasp and try to pull away, already shocked by the cold. But Father places a hand on each of my wings, holding me firmly in place.

After a few more minutes, he pulls me away from the water. "How did that feel?"

I'm shivering too hard to answer. The chilled feeling quickly spreads from my arms inward.

"Fine, don't talk to me. I'll remember that later, you know." He leaves, dragging the basin back upstairs.

Even with my wings wrapped around my body, I can't seem to get warm. I can barely walk, stumbling closer to the furnace and sinking down beside it. In desperation, I flick my wrist and concentrate on using my powers. But nothing appears--not even a spark.

The tremors wracking my body grow more violent as I huddle against the wall. Surrounded by damp stone and stale air. More alone than ever.


	13. Thea

_ He's gone back to the Governor. _

That's my first thought when Camille tells me the news. I've seen this before: victims who risk their lives by running back to their abusers the first chance they get.

I should know, considering I was almost one of them.

No time to think about that now, though, I tell myself. I have to get him out of there before it's too late!

_ If he's even telling the truth…  _

There's a very real chance that the Governor is innocent. But I have to risk that. Because if he's not? Cove's life is on the line.

**

The mansion is honestly an eyesore. There's nothing  _ technically _ wrong with how it's built; but it just looks so fake and out of place, as though everything about it was designed solely to impress the rich and famous.

I ring the doorbell and wait. Does Hartford have servants? I wonder idly. He seems like the kind of person who might.

A woman cracks opens the door. Most of her body remains in darkness, but I can make out the cast on her wrist. The maroon dress she's wearing is old and a bit tattered; the high collar and long sleeves seem inappropriate for such a hot day.

"You must be Mrs. Hartford," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I'm Thea Sutherland from Child Protective Services."

She gives a little squeak of fright, but composes herself quickly. "Please, call me Jillian…why are you here, anyway? Is Sam in trouble at school…?"

"Not exactly," I reply. "You might want to get your husband before I explain this."

She scurries off before returning with the Governor. "What seems to be the issue, ma'am?" he asks coolly.

I pause, looking down at the files in my hands. "Yesterday evening, one of my clients claimed to be your late son Cameron. There was clear evidence of--someone--abusing and neglecting him. And last night, he disappeared. Do you know anything about this?"

The Governor's smile slips from his face for a fraction of a second. "I'm afraid not. Cameron was...a beautiful boy. His death nearly tore us apart. Now all we can do is honor his legacy." There's a hint of fear in his tone. Maybe it's just from reliving the loss of a child. But...maybe it's something darker.

I turn to Jillian, who refuses to meet my eyes. "I can't talk about this," she says quickly. "The grief…"

"I understand. What about you? Samuel, isn't it?"

The boy hasn't said a word. Unlike his parents, he didn't even shake my hand. He does so now; his hands feel strangely cold. And up close, I can see that his hair is almost pure white.  _ An ice mage?  _ I ask myself.

"So do you remember your twin at all?"

He looks visibly uncomfortable. "Barely. We were only four when he died…"

"All right. I'll get off your case. One more question for your father, though: do you mind if I check the basement?"

Jillian gasps slightly. The Governor glares at her for a moment. "The basement? It's under renovation. You wouldn't be able to get past the stairs right now."

"Well, could I at least look?" I'm beginning to lose my patience, and so is Hartford.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing down there! Now get out of my house before I call the police--"

"No," Jillian says, surprising us all. "I'm tired of this. You want to know the truth? Come with me."

* * *


	14. Cove

Voices reach me from upstairs. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe. That was one of the first things I ever learned: _Don't make noise. Don't let anyone know you're here._ _Just wait it out until they leave._

But after a few minutes, it's clear that they're not leaving any time soon. Worse, Father sounds angry for some reason; he'll take it out on me later for sure. Maybe he'll even use the water again. Oh, anything but that! I'm still half-frozen from last time...

And now they're headed straight for the basement, judging by their footsteps.

Maybe it's a scientist who's come to experiment on me. The Governor always told me that would happen if I was bad...

I tense up, folding my wings tightly against my back. I've never been able to run, and my fire still isn't working. But there are no other options. Maybe I can fight them off?  _ No, I'm still too weak. _

They're opening the door. I stare at the wall, not wanting to see the disgust on their faces when they look at me.

" _ Nothing down here _ , huh?"

Thea sounds absolutely furious. Wait--Thea!

She came to rescue me!

Or...maybe she was on their side all along?

"There's a good explanation for this," Father says desperately.

"What is it, then?" Thea demands. "Oh, I know: you didn't want to take care of your own kid. Why? Because he's autistic? Because he's a mutant? You know what, I don't even care  _ why _ ."

She storms down the stairs, but her movements slow as she walks closer to me. When she speaks, her voice is both raw and gentle. "We're getting you out of here, Cove. For good."

It takes a while for the words to sink in. When they do, I can't quite believe it.

"Can you stand?" Thea asks. I try, but my legs nearly give out. "All right," she continues, "I'll carry you. But you have to let me get close, okay? Just trust me."

**

As we leave the basement, the Governor tries to grab her. "You can't take my son--that's kidnapping!"

She doesn't slow down. "Not in a case like this. Now get off me before you're accused of assault as well as child abuse."

I close my eyes and try to relax in Thea's arms.

"I know you're scared," she says softly. "It's okay."

_ That's not why I'm shaking _ , I want to tell her. But I only manage to say two words. "The water…"

We reach her car; she straps me into the passenger seat and brushes my hair away from my eyes with one hand. "Don't try to talk. Just save your strength for now."

**

I start to feel a little better now that I'm finally warm. After a while, I sit up straighter and look around. "Where are we going?" I ask nervously.

My voice still sounds faint and weak. Thea seems to notice this, glancing at me with concern as she answers. "I'm taking you to my house."

"Oh. Okay." I pause, letting myself rest for a second. "What about Sam?"

"I'm guessing that he'll be placed in a foster home too. The Governor...isn't suitable to be a parent." Her hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"You know, he only wanted to help me," I say. Where are these words coming from? I know better. But I can't stop myself…

Thea swerves sharply, nearly hitting a mailbox. " _ No _ , buddy. I've told you this before: you were abused and neglected.  _ Horribly.  _ Your father is a very sick man. And not in a way that can be cured."

"But I deserved it…" I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My face is expressionless, blank.

"Stop it!" Thea begs. "Cove, you're scaring me…"

Her voice breaks. This snaps me out of the trancelike state; all my emotions come flooding back.

"I'm s-sorry," I whisper. "I…"

She smiles, but her face is damp. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

_ You made her cry _ , Father's voice taunts in my head.  _ You really are a monster. _

  
  
  



	15. Iris

Mom's finally home! Good thing, too--I was getting worried. Some of the people she has to deal with are really dangerous. Not that she tells us many details...

"Who's that with her?" Caitlin says to no one in particular. Mercy and I join her at the window. Outside, Mom is talking to someone. I can't see his face from here, but he looks young.

"Maybe a new foster kid?" I suggest. We haven't had any in a few years, but you never know.

**

"This is Cove. He'll be staying here for a while."

I glance at Caitlin. She doesn't look very happy to know that I was right.

"Will you show him around?" Mom asks me.

"Of course," I say. I'm a little nervous, honestly. But I try not to show it, giving the boy a warm smile. "I'm Iris, by the way. So would you like to see your new room?"

He doesn't quite smile back, but some of the fear seems to leave his eyes. "Okay..."

I lead him to the guest bedroom. He seems to have trouble with the stairs; I know I shouldn't ask, but curiosity gets the better of me. "Are you hurt? Your leg is kind of…"

"It's always been like that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm used to it."

"If you say so…" I decide to change the subject. "Anyway, I like your wings! They're such a nice color…"

As we enter the room, Cove sits down on the edge of the bed. "I'd do anything to get rid of them," he mutters.

"You don't mean that! Bird kids are really rare--even among mutants. Isn't it cool to be one of them?"

"No," he snaps. "And besides, I'm not a bird. I'm a  _ person _ ." Despite the anger in his tone, the expression on his face is just sad.

"Okay, fine." I raise my hands in front of me, trying to signal that he should calm down. But it has the opposite effect; he flinches, looking terrified.

"Please don't h-hit me…"

"I wasn't planning to. What kind of person do you think I am?" Tossing my head, I turn and leave him there. If he's going to be like that, then I want nothing to do with him!

**

"Could you get Cove for me?" Mom asks later. "Tell him it's time for dinner."

I sigh slightly. "Do I have to? I don't think he likes me much."

"Please, Iris? He needs to eat more. You saw how thin he is. And a little socializing will be good for him, too."

She has a point, I decide, trudging upstairs. But that doesn't mean I'll ever be friends with this kid...

**

I notice that he flinches when Dad gets close to him.  _ So skittish,  _ I think with a flash of annoyance.

"It's okay," Mom tells him. "You can sit near me instead, if you'd like."

Unfortunately, this means that he's right next to me as well. I scowl at him. I just hope he doesn't get feathers on my new outfit--I've been excited to show it to Xander for three days now!

Cove doesn't look up once during the entire meal. Which is just fine in my opinion; his eyes kind of freak me out. They're too big for his face, and that orange-red color is just  _ weird… _

Mercy is the only one who doesn't notice the tension in the air; she's happily telling Cove about her powers. Even though she just met him!

"...and I can make things float!"

"Th-that's really cool," he says shyly. "I'm a f-fire mage…well, I was. I don't know if it still works or not."

Curiosity gets the better of me. "What's that supposed to mean? You can't just lose your mutations. They're in your DNA."

He glances at me for a split second before looking down again. "It's a long story…"

"Believe me, I have time." I cross my arms and stare at him.

"Y-you don't want to know," Cove says sharply. He clutches the edge of the table as though his life depends on it. "But if you insist...my father forced me to keep my hands in ice water for minutes on end. And ever since then, I haven't been able to get warm at all--let alone use my powers."

"I had no idea," Mom says quietly. "That...that goes beyond abuse. It's closer to torture."

" _ If  _ it really happened," I add.

He abruptly pushes his chair back and stands up, eyes flashing with anger. "I'm not lying!! Why does no one ever believe me?!"

I feel a little guilty, but I don't back down. "You have to admit it's a wild story. What kind of person does something like that to their own kid, really?"

"We all know Hartford would," Caitlin interjects. "But you don't know  _ him _ , do you?"

Cove freezes for a moment, then turns and leaves--not quite running, but getting out of the room as quickly as possible. The tip of one wing brushes my shoulder as he stumbles past me.

"Watch it!" I yell after him.

"Talk about an overreaction." Caitlin looks offended. "We all hate the Governor, but none of us freak out when his name comes up! Right, Mom? Mom...?"

She closes her eyes, looking suddenly exhausted. "...there's something you three need to know."


	16. Cove

My chest heaves as I struggle to take in air. The room spins around me.  _ Am I dying? _

My thoughts become less and less coherent.  _ I'm sorry, please, I'm *sorry*, I don't want this! _

And then the walls change from a clean off-white to the grey color of unfinished stone.

"No no no no no…."

"Shut up," the Governor says. I whimper slightly before falling silent.

"You really expected to leave?" he asks. "Trust me: you'll be in this basement until I get tired of you. And when that day comes…"

He trails off, not needing to finish his threat.

"Y-you're not real," I blurt out desperately. "This happened before. In the hospital. And Thea said it was fake."

His face reddens, and he lunges forward. I close my eyes, expecting to be punched in the face…

"Cove--snap out of it!"

When I dare to look, I'm back in Thea's house. She's standing a few feet away, eyes showing her concern.

"Father…?"

"He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore."

"But I just saw him!" I can feel my feathers ruffling slightly, which only makes me more upset. If I didn't have  _ these _ , then maybe I'd be happy!

"Stay with me, okay?" Thea asks.

I make an effort to focus on her. "It just f-felt so real…"

"I know. But you're safe now." She pauses. "There's something that might help you. Would you like to try it?"

"Maybe," I say, feeling a little suspicious. Father always said he was  _ helping _ me, too…

"It's called grounding," Thea says. "It's meant to help you keep yourself in the present when something triggers you."

_ That doesn't sound too bad, at least,  _ I tell myself. "How does it work…?"

"That's different for everyone. When I was your age, I'd recite poems in my head. I think it would be better for you to start with something easier, though. Like...a lot of people try to find everything they can see that's a certain color."

"I guess I'll try it next time," I say. "But I'm okay now...I think."

**

As I follow Thea back downstairs, Iris storms past us; she bumps into me, almost knocking me down.

"Sorry,  _ Hartford _ ," she calls over her shoulder.

_ Remember what we just talked about. Find something else… _

The room starts to spin around me, and I have to lean against the wall.

_ My name is Cove,  _ I tell myself.  _ I'm twelve years old. The Governor isn't here, but I am… _

It seems to help a little. I still feel really nervous, and I'm shaking. But I managed to keep myself sane for now.

**

Caitlin--at least I think that's the oldest girl's name--looks up when I approach. "Um...hi."

I can't bring myself to speak. My eyes travel to her hands, which are absolutely  _ huge _ . She could crush me if she wanted to!

"Yeah, I have superhuman strength," she says casually. "But I won't hurt you."

_ I don't believe you,  _ I want to tell her.  _ Everyone hurts me eventually. _ But the words stick in my throat.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Well, I don't blame you. Imagine having  _ him _ as a parent, that no-good, prejudiced, lying son of a--"

"I get it," I say quickly.

Caitlin seems to notice my discomfort. "I'm sure you do. Hey, let's talk about something else. You play any sports? I guess not, with your gimp leg and all." She flips a few pages in her magazine, looking embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout that. I don't always think before I say things."

I hesitate, then sit down beside her. She's at least twice my size, and she talks a lot. But for some reason, I'm not as scared of her as I should be.

Iris returns a few minutes later, freezing in place when she sees me. "What are you  _ doing? _ "

Caitlin stares at her blankly. "I'm just sitting here. Reading. Like I normally do?"

"But why is  _ he  _ there? Haven't you ever heard of fraternizing with the enemy?!"

She scowls at Iris. "Would you lay off? The kid's perfectly harmless…"

"This is the _ Governor's son,  _ Cait. He could be a spy for the Agency, did you think of that?"

"Of course I did, but--"

"Wait, what's the Agency?"

They both turn to look at me. "You mean you've never heard of it?" Caitlin asks.

I shake my head. "It's not like he ever told me anything important…"

"All you need to know is this: he has a secret police force," Iris replies. "They've made our lives miserable for years. We've tried everything--standing up to them, protesting online, just doing what they want. But it never matters. A dozen mutants are still killed every year."

"It's systemic," Caitlin adds. "One per month. Sometimes more, if the Governor's feeling ambitious."

"And  _ you  _ could've been among them," Iris says pointedly. "If you weren't his puppet."

"Don't," Caitlin tells her softly. 

But it's too late; my vision begins to turn red from rage. "Well, guess what?" I demand. "He didn't kill me, but he came awfully close. I was starved for eight years. I was beaten for every mistake. I had my mind destroyed to the point where I wished I would die! You think being the Governor's son saved me?! I'd say it ruined everything I could've been!"

* * *


	17. Thea

The next two weeks are hard. Cove barely leaves his room; whenever I check on him, he's sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing. He flinches at any sudden noise or movement.

Once I come across a crumpled piece of paper. Written on it in childish handwriting are the words:  _ Why can't I just be normal? _

_ ** _

Another thing? He insists on cleaning the house every day--even when I tell him he needs to rest. And he's unfailingly polite, unless someone mentions the Governor.

At first, I'm glad Cove is like this. I expected him to fight and make trouble, after that first day--but the exact opposite is happening.

Then, one hot afternoon towards the end of August, I make the mistake of asking him  _ why _ .

He turns toward me, those strange eyes trained on my face. "I guess I'm afraid of what might happen if I'm bad," he says. "If I'm not perfect...or if I'm ever a burden…well…"

I feel my heart break at that moment. "We're not going to hurt you," I tell him. "Or starve you. Or lock you away. No matter what."

"I believe you," he says quietly. "At least, I think so. But I can't take that chance."

I decide to give him some space. Before I leave, I say one last thing: "Well, I'll be here if you ever change your mind."

**

_ This poor kid really needs help,  _ I decide later. Nothing bad has happened, exactly. I even convinced Cove to join the rest of us downstairs--which is definitely a step in the right direction.

But I can tell he's terrified; his hands shake so badly that he has trouble holding the glass of water I gave him.

"Why don't you set that down before you spill it?" I suggest in a gentle tone. He instantly obeys, flinching as though he expects to be punished.

Rusty glances at me meaningfully. I sigh slightly. We're about to have a conversation that's a long time coming…

"Cove, I need to ask you something. You remember when you went to therapy in the hospital, right?"

"Y-yeah," he says carefully. "It was supposed to fix my leg...but I don't think it helped."

"What about the group meetings?" I ask. "Where you just talked to each other about how you felt?"

He looks away. "I only went to one of those. And they all hated me there."

_ This is off to a great start _ , I tell myself sarcastically.

Rusty interjects, "There's another kind of therapy that might help you more than either of those. It could make you feel happier, less scared. All you have to do is talk to one person. And they'll know not to judge you for anything."

Cove's eyes darken. "I don't need help. Really--I'm  _ fine _ ." He abruptly stands and limps out of the room.

Which is worse? I wonder. Forcing him to confront his past? Or letting him go on like this?

I think I already know the answer.

**

Rusty breaches the subject the next morning at breakfast. Iris has left the house early for some student council meeting, or so she told me.

"But I don't get it," Mercy is saying. "How could student council have a meeting if school hasn't started yet?"

"Don't ask," Caitlin tells her. "Iris does what she wants. If she's not careful, she'll end up back in therapy…"

"There's no shame in that," Rusty says, glancing at Cove. "In fact…we've decided that you really do need to see someone."

Cove stares straight ahead, his skin suddenly even paler than usual. his voice trembling with anger and fear. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," I say. "Please don't be upset. This is for your own good…"


	18. Cove

The clinic--a long, low building made of red bricks--towers above us. I stand on the sidewalk, trying and failing to understand a faded green sign.

"Delbrooke County Human Services," Thea reads for me.

"I  _ really  _ don't want to do this," I mutter.

She smiles encouragingly, but I can tell that I'm testing her patience. "They're here to help people. Including you."

As we head inside, I scuff my shoes on the ground, trying to make it clear how much I hate this. Thea glances at me in annoyance after a second, and I stop. Even though I'm not happy with her right now, I can't bring myself to upset her.

The waiting room is almost empty, except for a young girl. Her blond hair is uncombed, and she's chewing gum  _ way _ too loudly. When she notices me, she rolls her eyes.

"Don't stare at her, Cove," Thea says, too quietly for the girl to hear.

I shake my head in stunned silence. People confuse me more every day. Sometimes they want you to look at them, and sometimes they think it's rude...

The girl eventually walks towards me. "Hi," she says. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"

I edge closer to Thea. "Cove…"

"And I'm Rose." She sighs slightly. "You're so lucky to have a mom. Mine died years ago."

"She isn't…" I trail off. Thea could be my mother, I realize. She's protected me more than either of my birth parents ever did…

Before Rose can say anything else, my name is called.

**

The therapist smiles at me. "So you must be Cove."

I look down, studying the patterns swirling in the wood tabletop. "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Please, call me Jade. What brings you here today?"

"I dunno," I admit. "It wasn't my idea in the first place. I...I guess I'm scared all the time. And I get sad a lot, almost out of nowhere. But that's normal, right?"

Jade doesn't answer this. "I've never seen such a bad case of JMS before," she says instead.

"What's that?" I ask nervously.  _ Not another disorder… _

"Juvenile Mutation Syndrome. It's what makes you so… _ special _ . Haven't you ever wondered where you got your wings?"

"Not really," I admit. "I just thought I was a freak."

"But what about the water crisis of 2005? You've heard of  _ that _ , haven't you?"

I stare at her blankly.

"Oh, all right. I guess you deserve to know. Years ago, Delbrooke Manufacturing bribed ex-Governor Thompson to let them dump chemicals in the watershed. A lot of people got sick and died. But some--nearly all babies or toddlers, and a few school-age children--developed strange powers overnight. Their DNA tests showed extreme changes, to the point where they might not be considered fully human."

I'm suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. "So Father was right, then? I turned into a monster?"

"Not exactly." Jade looks uncomfortable. "You're closer to some sort of magical creature. Like an elf or something."

I close my eyes briefly. "Because that's  _ so _ much better," I say, voice heavy with sarcasm.

**

When the session is over, Jade retreats to another room. "I need to have a word with you," she tells Thea.

I'm pretty sure they don't want me to know what they're saying. But I can't help hearing parts of the conversation.

"...profoundly traumatized…it will take years for him to function normally. If he ever does."

"But he's such a sweet kid," Thea protests. "He really does want to heal. I can tell that much."

"Yes, well...just wanting something doesn't mean it's possible. And besides: he might not be as sweet as you think."

"What do you mean by that?" Thea asks softly.

"Children who come from extreme situations...some of them turn out loving and kind. But others take their pain out on the world around them. Hurting animals, setting fires. Simply put, they're sociopaths."

Her words echo in my head:

_ Setting fires... _

I look down at my faintly-scarred hands. I've seen fire flaring out from them. Fire that could burn someone badly if I Iost control. Does that mean I'm…?

**

I don't speak much on the way back to Thea's house.

"How was it?" she asks.

"Fine." I pull the hood of my jacket further over my face.

"Do you think it helped?"

"Sure," I say, because I know that's what she wants to hear.

After a few minutes of silence, I can't stop myself. "Am I allowed to ask you something, Thea?"

"Of course," she says. "It's not wrong to have questions."

I watch the scenery blurring by through the window. I wish I was out there, too; being inside the car is making me feel dizzy and claustrophobic.  _ Just get on with it,  _ I tell myself. "Am I bad? Or evil? Or crazy?"

Her eyes widen. "You heard us talking, didn't you?"

I nod silently. 

"Well, I don't think it's healthy to explain all the details right now. Maybe when you're older, and in a better place. But for now, just believe me when I say: you're none of those things. You're a good person, Cove."

I almost manage to smile. "You really think I'm...good? N-no one's ever said that before," I admit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	19. Thea

"Are you sure they won't experiment on me?"

I sigh slightly. "Yes, Cove. This is a pediatrician's office, not a lab. We told you this before, remember?"

"I just wanted to make sure."

It's his first time visiting any kind of doctor since he left the hospital. And he's understandably terrified. But his constant questions are starting to get annoying.

He picks up a magazine and flips through it. I steal a glance at the title:  _ Maine Artists Monthly. _

"Look at this," he says a few minutes later. "It's supposed to be a person, but it looks really wrong. Nobody's face is that shape in real life."

I've noticed something lately: Cove is a very skilled artist, but he can be more than a little stubborn about bending 'the rules'. Everything he draws has to be completely realistic and perfect; he's nicer about other people's art, but there are still moments like this every so often.

Before I can say anything to him, his name is called.

**

Dr. Reid looks down at his clipboard. “I have to say, I’m pretty happy with the progress that he’s been making. He’s grown three inches and gained a few pounds. And his heart seems to be working better too.”

“What’s the bad news?” Cove asks. “There’s always bad news, isn’t there?” I didn’t even realize he was listening. We might need to have a talk about interrupting people soon…

But the doctor takes it in stride. “Well, you’re still anemic. That would explain why you’re so pale, and why you get tired so easily." Turning back to me, he scribbles something on a pad of paper. "I'm prescribing him some daily vitamins. That should help a little. And make sure he's eating things with a lot of iron in them."

"Will do. Thank you, Doctor." I take the prescription and put it in my purse. Cove watches me silently. "By the way, how's his wrist?" I ask. "Is it healing well?"

"Yes, that's almost back to normal," Reid says. "It might hurt in cold weather from now on, but nothing unmanageable."

As we leave the office, an idea strikes me. I glance at Cove. "How would you like to try something new?"

He frowns deeply. "Like what?"

"Like going shopping with me, maybe? You can pick out some food--and you'll get to see a little more of the world. But only if you're comfortable with it."

"That doesn't sound too bad. Except…what if  _ he's  _ there? And he tries to take me back?"

"If that happens, I'll be there to protect you," I tell him, sounding much more confident than I feel. I'm pretty strong, but I'd be no match for the Governor if it came to that.

But Cove doesn't need to know all that. It would just scare him…

**

Fortunately, the store isn't very crowded. A few people do glance curiously at Cove, though. His wings are safely folded under his jacket; but there's no way to hide his other differences. He keeps his head down, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to try?" I ask him.

He seems to perk up a little, looking around with more interest than he's ever shown before now. "Maybe this…" he says softly, picking up a box of cereal from the nearest shelf. "If that's okay?"

I take it from him. "Good choice," I say, reading the ingredients.

He smiles faintly; but before he can say anything, a shrill voice reaches us from across the aisle.

"Thea,  _ darling,  _ how nice to see you!"

I stiffen. "Hello, Evie."

I've known Evangeline James for years. We met right after I immigrated from Greece in the eighth grade. She was a bully then--always laughing at my accent, my weight, my dark skin, and anything else she could think of. I wish I could say she's changed since those days, but she hasn't. She's still cruel and bitter; she just learned how to hide it.

Correction: she learned how to hide it  _ when she wants to _ .

Now she zeroes in on Cove. Her eyes gleam in that all-too-familiar way--she's found a new target, different enough to laugh at but too vulnerable to stand up for himself…

"And who's this?" she asks.

"Cam--I mean Cove," he says, quickly correcting himself before he can blurt out his real name. I breathe a sigh of relief.  _ That was too close. _

"Aren't you just  _ adorable _ ?" Her voice hardens slightly. "Or you  _ would  _ be, if it wasn't for those scars. How'd you get them, anyway?"

He absentmindedly touches the jagged mark below his left eye. There's another scar across the bridge of his nose, and several criss-crossing his hands. I never asked what they're from; I didn't want to know…

"Car accident," he says shortly.

But Evie is unconvinced. She grabs his arm; he tries and fails to pull free.

"Get away from him, he doesn't like being touched!" I tell her loudly. I don't care if I'm making a scene. She doesn't know what he's been through, she has  _ no right _ to disrespect his boundaries like this--

She presses on, ignoring me. "These ones on your wrists look like they're from chains…" There's obvious enjoyment on her face. "Were you some kind of prisoner or something?"

Cove doesn't answer; he's beginning to hyperventilate slightly. I need to get him out of here before he has a full-on panic attack!

Already bored, Evie releases him and starts to walk away. "It was fun talking to you, Thea. Maybe we should go out for coffee sometime?"

"In your dreams," I say too quietly for her to hear. Turning back to Cove, I gently lead him back out to the car. He's shaking like a leaf; as I watch, sparks fly from his fingertips.

"It's okay, bud," I tell him softly, trying to hide my alarm.  _ What if he lost control?  _ I ask myself. Out loud I continue, "You're safe here, remember?"

His head jerks in a spastic sort of nod, but he doesn't reply. As he pulls his hood back over his face, I catch another glimpse of those awful scars…

My horror must show on my face; he quickly tugs his sleeves over his wrists, hiding the damage completely. "You weren't supposed to see…"

"But I did. And I won't treat you any differently now."

We sit in silence for most of the drive home. Finally, he speaks again. "When I was younger, I used to sort of flap my hands when I got overwhelmed. I never hurt anybody, but Father couldn't stand it…"

I make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror for a second. "Go on," I tell him quietly.

"One day when I was maybe seven, the Governor had guests over. Of course they didn't know who I was...they just saw a mutant slave. And to them, that was normal. Like a trained dog or a workhorse. Anyway, I had to serve them. Their voices were so loud, and the light hurt my eyes. So I…" He shudders, trails off, begins again. "I couldn't help it, it was the only way I could stay calm. But Father said I was embarrassing him. And after everyone left, he decided he would teach me to keep my hands still…"

"I'm so sorry, Cove," I whisper. "You never deserved this."

"S'fine," he mutters. "I wasn't  _ always  _ chained up. Just when I did something wrong." He leans back and closes his eyes, a clear signal that he's done talking for now; after just a few minutes, he's fast asleep. I don't try to wake him up. It's been a long day, and he needs a chance to rest.


	20. Cove

For a few seconds I don't know where I am. I'm covered by a warm blanket, and there are no bars blocking the sun.  _ What's happening? _

Then I remember how everything's changed lately. Happiness and relief wash over me as I realize:  _ I'll never be in the basement again. _

I turn my head and notice Thea sitting in a chair a few feet away. "Good morning, Firefly," she says once she notices that I'm awake.

My wings twitch contentedly as I sit up. But something's bothering me. Thea said  _ morning _ ..."How long was I out, anyway?"

She frowns slightly. "You fell asleep at 4 yesterday afternoon, and then slept straight through until now. I was worried you were getting sick."

"Now that you mention it…" I shake my head. "Nevermind."

Thea looks worried all of a sudden. "No, what is it? I need to know if something's wrong."

"Well...my throat kinda hurts," I admit. "But I'm sure it's nothing serious."

She slowly walks towards me and places a hand on my forehead. I try my best not to flinch.  _ I can trust her...right? But how do I know for sure? _

"You're running a fever," she says. "It's probably just a cold...but with your immune system being the way it is, I'm not taking any chances. Stay there, I'll be right back."

**

I wait for about ten minutes, laying down and staring at the ceiling. A headache starts to form behind my eyes. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I'm kind of scared. I've been hurt plenty of times, and I've always been weak; but I don't think I've ever really gotten sick before…

Finally, Thea comes back holding a tray with a small bowl. "I made you a can of soup." Seeing the expression on my face, she adds, "I know you probably don't feel like eating, but you need to keep your strength up."

I'm about to argue...but she did this for me. She didn't have to, did she? She could easily let me starve, just like the Governor always did.

So, after a brief pause, I take the tray from her. "Thank you," I say. I don't mean to sound so stiff, but it still feels weird to be treated well...

At least she doesn't seem to mind. "I hope you feel better soon," she says, giving me a soft smile before turning to leave.

**

I get bored and lonely after a while. The Sutherlands are talking quietly downstairs, but I can't make out what they're saying.

Maybe I could go down and join them! I smile slightly. They'll be really happy to see that I'm trying to be more social!

But when I try to stand, I nearly collapse. A wave of dizziness hits me, the room blurs, and all my limbs feel like they've turned to rubber. It's all I can do to stay upright.

_ Don't be a baby,  _ I tell myself. Then I force myself to let go of the bed frame.

I'm almost out of the room when my shaking legs give out entirely. I try to steady myself, but it's no use. Before I know it, I'm lying face-down on the pale green carpet.

The house is eerily silent now. Even though I don't weigh much, I fell hard enough to cause a loud thud--one that must've reached the others.

Thea comes running up the stairs. "What happened?"

"Um...I guess I tripped. But it's fine. See?" I try to get up, only to flop back down before I'm even close to standing.

"This is  _ not  _ fine!" she replies, a note of panic creeping into her voice. "I'll help you get back to bed, and then you're to stay there. Okay?"

"Do I have a choice?" I ask.

"I'm going to ignore that remark," she says dryly, calmly lifting me off the floor. The next moment, her eyes widen. "Oh, Cove, you're burning up--I can feel it already…"

As she eases me back onto the bed, I shiver weakly. But after a few seconds, I start to feel uncomfortably hot.

I hope this sickness--whatever it is--doesn't last long. I've had enough of it already!


	21. Iris

“Apparently Hartford’s sick,” I tell Caitlin. “Or at least, he’s got Mom fooled.”

She considers this for a moment. “You think he’s faking?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” I say impatiently. Caitlin is nice and all, but sometimes she can be a little slow on the uptake.

“You can’t prove that, so why worry about it?” she asks, so reasonably that I begin to feel stupid.

“Well…” I flounder for an answer. “Dylan wouldn’t like it, would he? Having the Governor’s kid in his place, making everyone forget that he ever existed?”

Caitlin looks at me as though I slapped her. But before she can respond, Mom walks in, a cell phone in one hand and a stack of files in the other.

“Of course,” she’s saying to whoever’s on the other end of the line. “I’ll come in as soon as I can.” Hanging up, she turns to face us. “That was someone from CPS--they want to review Cove’s case, see what evidence we have against his father. I’d take him along, but he’s in no condition to leave the house--let alone travel for an hour.” She frowns deeply. “You girls are responsible enough to stay here with him, aren’t you?”

Caitlin glances at me. I can almost hear what she’s thinking:  _ This is what you get _ . “Yeah, we can do that,” she tells Mom.

“Okay. Just one more thing, though--”

“We know what we’re doing,” I insist, making a big show of looking at the clock. “Now you should probably go. You don’t want to miss the meeting!”

**

As soon as she leaves, I head straight to the couch. With Mom gone, I can finally watch all the horror movies that she thinks are too gory…

But Caitlin has other ideas. “I don’t think so,” she says, grabbing the TV remote.

“Hey!” I spring up and try to take it from her, but she holds it above her head, where I can’t reach it. One of the drawbacks of having a giant sister, I guess.

“We’re supposed to take care of Cove,” she reminds me.

“But I can’t stand him…” I know I’m whining, and I don’t care.

“Then find something else to do. Something  _ useful _ ,” she adds before I have a chance to protest.

**

“I can’t believe this,” I mutter as I trudge upstairs. “Babysitting duty! And  _ that  _ kid, of all people…”

“He’s actually pretty nice if you give him a chance,” Caitlin says without turning around. “Kind of shy, but I guess he has a right to be.” We pause at the closed door. “Just try to be civil, at least?”

“Whatever.”

The curtains are drawn, making the room dim. A small bundle of blankets is piled on the bed.

“Cove?” Caitlin whispers.

The bundle moves slightly; after a second, a muffled voice comes from it. I can’t make out any specific words, though.

Caitlin walks over and pulls a few of the blankets away. “I can’t hear you with all those quilts covering your head,” she says gently.

He closes his eyes, wincing at the sudden light. His face, normally so pale, is flushed. “Caitlin?” he asks. “What’re you doing up here? Where’s Thea?”

“She had...a few errands to run.” We exchange glances, silently agreeing not to tell him the truth.

“Oh. Okay.” Cove sounds completely worn out.  _ You’re a good actor,  _ I think as I look at him,  _ but you won’t fool me. _

“Do you need anything?” Caitlin asks. “Maybe you’d like to draw a little? I hear you’re an artist, right?”

“Y-yeah. I guess I am,” he says. “But not right now. My head hurts…”

“Give me a break!” I blurt out. But Cove doesn’t seem to react at all.

“I’ll get you something to help with that,” Caitlin tells him. “Iris, come with me.” There’s an edge to her voice. Unlike Cove, she  _ definitely  _ heard what I said…

“What were you thinking?” she asks a few minutes later.

I pretend not to hear her. “Can’t find it,” I mutter, peering into the medicine cabinet.

“Listen to me, Iris. You don’t have to like him...but would it kill you to make an effort? He never did anything to you.”

“He doesn’t have to. His father’s bad enough!”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

Guilt stirs faintly in my heart. But I ignore it. There are certains facts that no one can change: the sky is blue. The sun is hot. The Hartfords are evil.

Just as Caitlin’s about to say something else, I find what I’m looking for. “Here,” I say, holding up a bottle of aspirin. “Now we can get this over with.”

**

I hang back as Caitlin helps him sit up. “There you go,” she says. “You’re doing great...”

It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. Maybe I’d feel sorry for Cove--if he was actually sick!

“It’ll take a few minutes to work,” she continues once he’s swallowed the pills. “For now just try to rest. And let us know if you need anything.”

_ ‘Us’? Since when did *I* offer to help?! _

**

Mercy always sleeps late, but she comes out to the kitchen at about eleven o’clock, asking for breakfast. I quickly volunteer to make it for her. Given the choice between caring for my own sister and caring for a Liar with a capital L...well, the right answer is obvious.

She’s in a good mood today, chattering happily about everything imaginable. “My birthday’s in two weeks!! I’m gonna be thirteen! I don’t want a party, just a cake and maybe one gift, okay?”

I relax as I listen to her.

Unfortunately, the subject eventually turns to...less pleasant subjects.

“I wonder if Cove ever got cake for his birthday. Wait, does he even know when his birthday  _ is _ ? You wouldn’t think so, if he lived in a basement and nobody loved him…”

I paste on a fake smile. “That’s none of our business,” I tell her in my most cheerful voice. 

But she refuses to let the subject drop. “I like Cove a lot,” she says stubbornly. “We’re the same in some ways. And not just ‘cause he’s an Avian, either. Don’t you think there’s something about him?”

“Maybe,” I say, trying to evade the question. “Would you like me to do your hair while you watch TV?”

“The Baking Channel!” she yells happily. I know her well enough to take this as a ‘yes’.

**

As she absorbs information on quick breads and quiches, I run a brush through her thick curls. It took me a long time to learn how to do this for her; Caitlin and I are both white, while Mercy’s black. We get a lot of strange looks in public, but I’m never quite sure if it’s because of the race issue or because we’re all mutants.

Some people are bold enough to ask us questions directly. I usually keep my answer relatively short: Mercy is Mom and Dad’s first and only biological child. After they found out they couldn’t have anymore, they adopted a pair of unusually strong twins--Caitlin and Dylan--whose parents had disowned them. I came into the picture a year later, after my birth parents died; none of the Sutherlands knew about my power when they adopted me, but they always say it doesn’t matter...

What is my power? I prefer not to talk about it. It’s pretty lame, anyway.


End file.
